


Of stars and flying ships

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens, Canon Era, Gen, Humor, probably qualifies as crack, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly goes on an unwilling Adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of stars and flying ships

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for another Tumblr prompt (Feuilly + stars/space).

Feuilly was terrified. For hours now, he’s been alternately running and hiding in what appeared to be some kind of artificial cave. Right now he was skulking behind some odd columns which were made up of cables and tubes – and which were giving off a low, humming, buzzing sound. A little way away, on the wall, some panels could be seen, decorated with little blinking lights.

After listening for footsteps – or whatever limb his pursuers used to move about – and hearing none, Feuilly relaxed a little and attempted to arrange his racing thought into some semblance of an order.

First thigs first, how did he even end up here – wherever  _here_  was? No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t come up with a satisfying answer. The evening started ordinary enough. He was on a mission to meet some of the ABC’s associates out on the outskirts of Paris, out where the urban landscape gives way to the rural and there are more gardens than houses.

It was a November afternoon, so despite the relatively early hour it was already dark. At one point Feuilly had to cross an unenhabited patch where the darkness was so thick the only thing he could see were a few distant windows on the horizon and the light of his own little lantern.

This was when things started to go wrong. Right in the middle of the field he found his path blocked by a heap of huge, metallic containers. They were perfectly smooth, with no visible signs of welding. Even the smallest was somewhat bigger than Feuilly.

Intrigued, and somewhat intimidated, he started to examine them, to call for their owner – in hindsight he shouldn’t have lingered. All of a sudden he was overcome by an intense sense of unease, his hair standing on his arms… He tried to run, but it was too late. There was a flash of bright light and the world went white.

When he finally came to… he strongly wised he didn’t. There were two monstrous figures looming over him, vaguely human-shaped but with way too many limbs and eyes. They didn’t seem to be paying much attention to him though, they were poking and hissing at each other. Feuilly bolted.

This was how he ended up in his current position. His memories were clear, but he still couldn’t explain them. Maybe he fell unconscious and was now dreaming? Or did he die, and this was some strange afterlife?

The blinking of the lights beside him intensified, and the part of his mind that resembled a small, furry animal suggested it was time to move. He crawled out from behind the columns and, after making sure it was deserted, out into a corridor.

Taking in his surroundings, Feuilly noted how oddly smooth and clean everything was. The walls were white, made of some foreign material he couldn’t recognise, and seemed to be illuminated from within.

The luminous corridor lead him to a bigger, darker room. He couldn’t make out what was in the farther corners… the only thing he had eyes for was the window.

There was a huge, wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room. Feuilly walked up to it as if hypnotised. He could see the night sky, cleared, brighter, more magnificent than ever – and all around him. Feuilly pressed up against the glass, looking downwards – darkness and stars everywhere. He took half a step backwards and let this new information sink in.

So the thing he was trapped in was probably floating or flying. Still, shouldn’t he be able to see the ground, however far below?

_Ah there you are._

Feuilly spun around sharply. One of the… creatures he’d encountered earlier was standing behind him.

_Uh, no, please don’t be afraid. We really don’t want to hurt you._

Feuilly felt rather than heard the words, as if they were forming in his own mind. This was exactly the opposite of reassuring.

‘Where am I? Where are you taking me?’

_No, relax, please, we didn’t want to kidnap you or something… It was an accident. We just picked up some cargo and you with it._

When Feuilly merely continued to stare, rooted to the ground the thing… tentacle-person… went on.

_It’s not like I didn’t tell the captain to pick a less densely populated area, but what do I know, I’m a mere merchant after all…_

_‘_ I-I see. But sir… ah, could you please tell me where am I? And if my ending up here was an accident could you kindly return me home?’

_Ah sure, sure, this is a…_

…here Feuilly could feel him (he was fairly sure it was a him) rummaging through his memories to find the words and concepts to explain himself with…

_…a ship. A ship that flies in space. I’m a merchant, and technically the owner of the thing, but my captain seems to think otherwise._

It was truly amazing how much pure disdain he could express by using Feuilly’s own thoughts. Feuilly would have been suitably impressed – had he not spent so much time around Enjolras who could sneer without moving a single muscle of his face, with his back turned.

 _The problem is_ – the space-faring merchant went on –  _that we’re already over the first wormhole._

Feuilly stared at him in blank incomprehension.

_Ah it’s like… like we’ve already crossed a very high and dangerous mountain range? So, yes, of course we’re going to bring you home, but maybe on our way back? It would be such a hassle to turn back right now, that bastard would never agree to it. Never mind the whole mess is his fault…_

The panic that has been lulled by the bumbling earnestness of his accidental host piqued up again.

‘How long… If I may ask, sir, how long will this voyage last?’

_Oh about… wait you wouldn’t get that… you would feel it to be, like, three weeks?_

Feuilly felt an iron hand close on his stomach. Not only would his friends worry themselves sick, he would have no job to return to after being absent for so long.

_Don’t worry, that’s just how long you’ll perceive it to be. We can arrange that when you get back only a day or so will have passed on Earth._

‘How is that possible?’

 _To be quite honest I haven’t the first idea. I mean, I learnt it, but that was ages ago… Though I’m sure our_ esteemed captain _could explain it._

Feuilly was reeling. His mind was buzzing with questions, he opened his mouth… At which point his stomach grumbled loudly.

_What was that? Are you all right? Are you… oh, you’re hungry, aren’t you? That’s what that meant, right? Come along, you’re in luck, we have some Earth-food on board. It’s inexplicably popular in some parts._

‘If you are sure it is no trouble…’

_Nah, come on, we accidentally kidnapped you, the least we can do is to make sure you’re comfy while you’re with us._

After a meal that supposedly consisted of ingredients from Earth but none of which Feuilly has ever heard of, let alone tasted before, and during which they discussed everything and anything with his new friend from the interstellar trade routes to the Napoleonic wars and their after-effects to the downsides of trying to land a spaceship in the Russian winter and the raging superiority complex of the captain, Feuilly was lead to a comfortable room and left to take his rest.

Right before sleep finally took him, out of all the thoughts swarming in his head the one to float to the surface was this:

_Combeferre would be having the time of his life._

**Author's Note:**

> How does Feuilly know that the merchant wishes to be thought of as a 'he'? Well, the fellow is right in his mind, he/they can suggest as much. 'They' would probably be better, but they're working with the concepst they can find in Feuilly's mind, and, him being someone who thinks in French, you won't find neutral pronouns in there.


End file.
